


diptych

by millepertuis



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Pre-Canon, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 07:43:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11801550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millepertuis/pseuds/millepertuis
Summary: Geckos don’t let go of what belongs to them.





	diptych

**Author's Note:**

  * For [opheliahyde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/opheliahyde/gifts).



> this is a bit later and shorter than i'd like, but i hope you like it!

 

Uncle Eddie hadn’t quite been able to look them in the eye that morning, focusing intently on his cufflinks as he told them he was going out of town for a job for a few days. There were the usual instructions: don’t skip school, if you get drunk and make a mess you clean up after yourselves, if you do some illegal shit you better not get fucking caught, and for god’s sake eat some fucking vegetable that’s not on a pizza at some point.

He had skipped the ‘no girls’ part of the speech.

It had been a couple of weeks since Uncle Eddie had found out, and had quite obviously decided to pretend it wasn’t happening. It had gone as well as it could have. Eddie hadn’t made any stupid noise about separating them, hadn’t kicked them both out, and hadn’t even tried to make them talk about it. The least Richie could do in exchange was make Seth keep his hands to himself while Uncle Eddie was around, and for about half an hour after he left just in case.

But Uncle Eddie had left and Seth hadn’t tried anything, and kept not trying anything for the rest of the day. He hip-checked Richie as he heated up some pasta but didn’t try to pull him into a kiss. He sat close and kept up a steady commentary during the movie but shut up when Richie kicked him in the ankle and didn’t even try to goad Richie into a wrestling match.

He sneaked into Richie’s bed that night and didn’t speak, didn’t try to slip his hands under Richie’s shirt, didn’t even curl around Richie to sleep close together the way he had done for longer than Richie could remember. He just laid there still as a statue for long minutes until he stiffly sat up and moved to get back to his own bed, and Richie realized all at once Seth had been _waiting._

He pulled Seth back into bed before he’d even fully left it, and Seth let him, and he let Richie pull him close until their foreheads touched, but he still didn’t move or speak, only stared at Richie with that stubborn look he had: like hell was he going to give in first.

Seth had been the one to kiss him, that first time—Seth was always the one to kiss him, and it suited Richie very well. He still looked at Seth sometimes and didn’t know _how_ he was allowed this. He certainly didn’t know how he could ever be allowed to keep it. It hadn’t occurred to him that maybe Seth needed reassurance, too—Seth, who laid claim to everything Richie had like it was his due, and it was.

“Would you just—” Seth huffed, relenting a little, and the words rushed out of Richie.

“I want you,” he said, and felt all the tension leak out of Seth, so he said it again, voice steadier: “I want you.”

“Yes, obviously,” Seth said, but he was smiling, relieved and happy and the most beautiful thing Richie had ever stolen, and Richie was never going to give him back, not for as long as he lived.

 

 

 

 

 

“Will you fucking close the door, you’re letting all the hot air in,” Seth throws over his shoulder, making a beeline to the bathroom to wash off some of the blood and desert dust.

They’ve driven as far as they were going to for the day and stopped at the first motel they saw. Seth can’t remember the last time he slept. He leans on the sink and feels like his strings have been cut, like whatever’s been holding him up so far is gone.

All he’s been able to think about for the last twenty miles is that fucker saying—saying Richie was—

His hands shake as they reach out to unbutton his shirt and strip it off, as they open the tap and scrub at his face.

When he opens his eyes again, Richie is there, crowding him in the cramped bathroom. He’s staring at Seth, his eyes following the rivulets of water trailing down Seth’s neck.

Seth opens his mouth, meaning to ask for a bit of space, or to remind Richie he’s already given away enough blood for one day.

“You don’t get to leave me,” is what comes out instead.

Richie’s eyes snap up to meet Seth’s in the mirror.

“I won’t,” he says.

Seth looks at him and sees everything they have ever been to each other, all at once: the brother who checked over his bruises; the kid who pulled him out of the fire; the teenager Seth fought for so many times; kisses and burning touches; his partner in everything, the other half of himself; the guy who left him behind.

Seth is tired of being the one left in the lurch. Richie let himself get fucking shot and died. Richie walked away. Richie bites at his neck, at his thigh, and sates himself on Seth’s blood, and Seth is the one left hungry, left yearning.

Richie reaches out a hand to Seth’s neck, brushing against the puncture marks, and something inside Seth comes loose.

“Are you ever gonna ask?” he bites out.

“Ask what?”

“I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

Richie tries to take his hand back, but Seth grabs it and doesn’t let go.

“Do you even want to?” Richie asks, annoyed.

“Grow scales and turn into a bloodsucker? Not all that much.”

Richie closes his eyes. “What, then?” he asks.

Seth thinks of growing old without Richie. He thinks of dying, tomorrow or in fifty years, and leaving Richie to go on alone. Geckos don’t let go of what belongs to them, and nothing has ever belonged so completely to Seth as Richie does.

It was never a choice Seth could make; it had been made for him in that bar, when Richie died and was remade into something new. What else can Seth do but follow?

He strokes his thumb over Richie’s wrist, Richie who looks so pained and still won’t ask.

“Richard,” he says, “I won’t ever leave you either.”

 

 


End file.
